A Time of Change
by diamondsforever
Summary: For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven... An AoshixMisao oneshot addressing the changes that they experience during the Meiji Era. Advanced critique is always welcome.


**Hey there, folks! I'm back, after a year-and-a-half long hiatus from the beloved, and much-missed, Fan-Fiction community. Hopefully I'll do alright as I give Fan-Fiction a shot once more, so reviews are much loved, and advanced critiques are always welcome.**

**I wouldn't mind an on-call Beta as well. Anyone out there with a hunger for Bleach, Naruto, FMA, Rurouni Kenshin, and other random goods? Send me a note!**

* * *

**A Time of Change**

_"For everything there is a season,_

_And a time for every matter under heaven..."_

- Ecclesiastes 3:1

* * *

_She had cut her hair._

The long, braided ponytail that once adorned and complimented Misao's agile form was replaced by short, shoulder-length locks that fell loosely around her shoulders, accentuating the youthful dimples than illuminated her visage. Like sunshine, wherever she sauntered off to, she lit up the place, introducing an unrivaled quality of joy into the environment, just as she always did in the confines of the Aoiya inn.

_Gone was the past as the East modernized, adopting values and cultures from the Western world, transforming into a likened image of its Western counterparts._

And gone was her hair, and in its place a modern hairstyle, popular amongst the youth - or so it seemed. No longer did she keep the hair that her friends once declared beautiful, and which she had chosen to tie up in a feeble attempt to deny her femininity - to become a spy. A spy in an era that demanded less for the proud intelligence networks who dominated the previous era, and more for businesses and goals of peace.

Gone were her strange attires which once represented her pride as a member of the Oniwabanshu. The light, cooling, and comfortable clothes that could never accentuate her figure were replaced by a uniform consisting of a hakama and gi, and her training sandals were replaced by boots._Ugly_, she had called it. _Recognition as a member of a growing, youthful educated force_, the Meiji had overruled, declaring the uniform compulsory for those who enrolled into the reformed colleges.

Gone were the darkened outfits that once signified their clan, and the yukata that Aoshi chose to wear during his visits to the temple. No, his _stays_ at the temple - after all, he spent more time there than back in the inn where they all belonged. Misao had seen the transformation of Shinomori Aoshi; from a former Okashira to a man who now donned a Westernized Gentlemen's attire - what they called _business suits_, with buttoned, collared undershirts, vests, coats, a tie, and long trousers. Strap-like devices called _belts_ had overtaken the need for an obi too. Aoshi looked so different now, but his sharp facial features never wavered, never changed; he was just as beautiful now as he was back then, an epitome of the traditional dashing heroes in the romantic novels which were translated into Japanese. However, he had taken a piece of the past with him, sporting a short ponytail that Misao found to be quite adorable, yet peculiar. It took some getting used to, supported by the countless past tales whipped up by Okina, who bantered about the previous hairstyles of Aoshi during his youth, in some counterproductive attempt to explain this abrupt _abnormality_ Aoshi had chosen to adorn.

_Gone were his combat gloves, replaced by the spotless, tailored silk that wrapped around his fingers. A gentleman's gloves, as Okon liked to call it. Now, Misao supposed, the only thing missing was a cigar... or what they called 'beer'. _

It was more for the sake of the Oniwabanshu, though the physical acceptance of Western fashion in some way symbolized Aoshi's development of peace for the current government, and the exorcism of a vicious, bloodstained past. The fire of vengeance, determination, and destruction that once elicited his eyes was no more, calmed by the passive support of those around him, the hours of meditation, and the tea that Misao served him everyday. The process was long, but rewarding in more ways than one.

Misao had been asked to step down from her hierarchical position of the Okashira, as her studies prioritized her life. Of course, more-than-subtle coaxes that the leader of the Oniwabanshu required a top-notch education in the modern world had left her reluctantly accepting this fate. Yet, she clung to the title once worn by her grandfather, leaving Aoshi with the responsibility of _assisting_ the Okashira while she took her _educational leave_. It was years since the demand for peace had separated the infamous group, but their connections still held, and the network was revived once again - with Aoshi as their _acting head_. Her beloved was swept away to _numerous, but necessary_ conference and business after-parties, rendering Misao green with envy at the thought that _her_ Aoshi lay within the physical grasp of other women - other beautiful, rich, and glamorous socialites. He was a crafted masterpiece, after all; and women tended to overlook the emotionless, impassive demeanor that plastered quite comfortably across his visage, becoming the usual expression of his face.

Gone was the childish infatuation for Aoshi that gripped her heart during her every waking moment as a child. Instead, what replaced it was the realisation that Aoshi was not exactly _hers_, though unmistakable blushes of cerise continued to redden her cheeks at the mention of his name. Misao understood that patience had a greater chance of drawing his interest rather than her deliberate, obsess-fuelled attempts to force_what she called love_ onto him. Gone was the little girl who demanded to see her Aoshi-sama when classes ended in the evening.

One thing did not change, however, though everything else soared timelessly into the past before blending shamelessly into the present.

Makimachi Misao still found the time to bring Aoshi his tea, and with this, the changing developments of Japan ceased to matter, and all troubles seemed to melt away. He liked green tea, and she would commence their conversations with enquiries about his conferences, rather than trivial bickering about herself.

_She only wished to see a charming smile across his lips, completely unaware that he had already begun to smile on the inside. _

Gone was the little girl Aoshi had promised to protect, and in her place blossomed a beautiful woman, all grown up.

* * *

**The attire and appearances that I used all derive from ****Kenshin Kaden, the finale of the manga. There was once a fan (I've forgotten the source! Eek!) who made the observation (after research) that Misao's clothing in Kenshin Kaden was actually that of a university student during the era, so I've used that in my short story.**

**Comments and critiques, as well as pointers on any obvious mistakes I have made are always welcome and deeply cherished. My writing's still a little shaky, and I haven't mastered character personalities yet, but it's a start!**

**Love you readers and reviewers always,**

**Aya.**


End file.
